| Title | : | Moon Dance |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0812511271 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780812511277 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 544 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1989 |
Moon Dance Reviews
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O my brothers and sisters, hark! The full moon is nigh. Soon our pale mistress will quicken our blood and command our souls. The great change shall come and so our true selves will arise – if only briefly. But perhaps such pleasures should only be given in brief amounts. ‘Tis better for our prey, the human kind, at least! Pathetic, limited humans. They will never know the wonder of our nature: the fearful pain as our furry true selves burst through our human guises, bones reshaping and pelts and muzzles and hard nails and sharp fangs coming forth... the glorious howling, as we sing to each other and to our mistress in the sky... the thrill of the hunt and the long races in the dark as we track and chase and toy with our human prey… the joy of the slaughter as we leap and then bite and tear and devour… the warm, salty tang of blood and the sweet, rich taste of flesh on our tongues. Mere humans will never know such things; they know only how to be prey. O hark, my brethren! The night comes quickly!
But first, a book review.
Moon Dance is an epic novel of the American Old West and purports to be a history of how the decadent European werewolves came to settle the land, only to find that a tribe of the native species have already claimed that land. It is a novel about a war between wolves, and the battles between the human kind and our early brothers and sisters. It is about shamanism and magic, a multiple personality, a human woman caught between wolves, old traditions dying and new traditions being born. It is about a modern day woman, solving a riddle and learning this history. It is about slaughter and atrocity.
I truly wanted to love this book. Certainly the subject matter is of much interest to me. I appreciated the differentiation between the wolf tribes, European and native. I enjoyed its fast pacing and dense plotting and respect for shamanism and native culture. Somtow also demonstrates some genuine skill with his prose; many phrases are compellingly evocative or haunting or strange or mordantly playful. And the story comes from a talented pen: its Thai author has not just been prolific within many genres of popular fiction, he is also a composer of music and a conductor of symphonies as well. He is currently the artistic director of the Bangkok Opera. An impressive resume, for a human.
Unfortunately he has a tin ear when it comes to actual dialogue. The dialogue, oh the dialogue! It does improve over time but there is much that is so strained and so wooden that it became impossible to read the book without rolling my yellow eyes in derision. The author seems to have little understanding of the human species itself! Except for the central character of the boy with many souls, characterization is often tediously flat or even nonsensical. An ongoing and particularly infuriating example: in the modern sequences, an apparently empowered and intelligent young lady is repeatedly degraded and threatened verbally by a handsome young man. He taunts her and continually calls her a bitch and refers casually to her innate racism and stupidity. The young lady not only never reacts to these provocations, her own internal monologue barely even acknowledges them. This is supposed to be a strong and independent woman? Her only reaction to his ridiculous commentary is to be... turned on. She is like no human woman I have ever met. Now I am not the sort of liberal lycanthrope who will often defend or rationalize the soft weaknesses of the human sort, but even I appear to have a better understanding of human behavior and a deeper empathy for the human soul. Humans are not just delicious, they are also complicated and emotional and react to provocation. Somtow does not appear to understand humans. Perhaps he does not belong to their kind?
Even worse is the excessive focus on slaughter and atrocity. Somtow attempts to conduct a symphony of orgiastic violence within his book. I realize my distaste may come as a surprise to my brethren. But page after page after page of atrocity: the torture and rape of children and women and men, the slaughter of animals and humans, the most brutal and vile examples of sadistic violence described in an almost gloating fashion, again and again and again… it became mind-numbing. The violence was so repetitious and so over the top that it also became rather a joke, and a chore to read as well. Violence a chore – to me! Believe me brothers, I was surprised as well. But as much as I appreciate the insensate screams of my victims and the bloody devouring of their flesh, really, there is a limit. There is such a thing as Too Much. Somtow’s symphony of slaughter eventually turned into a tedious cacophony to these wolfish ears.
I was also quite displeased with the author’s obsession with urine and feces. Obviously the marking of territory is a common habit, and a reasonable one. But does everything have to be described as smelling like urine? Does every human and wolf have to smell like and be stained with urine? Must the characters constantly urinate everywhere and on each other? And the feces! There was so much smearing of shit that eventually I realized that the author was overindulging himself, like a toddler who has discovered his diaper and stubbornly insists on playing with his new toys. And then there is the depiction of the rank smell of wolves... like that of a corpse. Excuse me, Somtow? How dare you compare a wolf's musk to the smell of rot and decay and bodily corruption! The nerve of him. I am of a mind to seek out this author and let him truly know my scent. And much else!
O my brethren, I would consider carefully before reading this one. It is not an atrocious book by any means and there is much to savor within its pages. But it should be seen as more of a “guilty pleasure” rather than as a novel of genuine worth. Much like the stalking and devouring of invalids and seniors... sometimes one can enjoy the lazier, less challenging pleasures. But that pleasure should never replace the thrilling joy of hunting and consuming something in the full bloom of health! And so, alas, I must continue my search for the Great American Werewolf Novel. Surely it must be out there somewhere.
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Καθαρίζω τη βιβλιοθήκη μου και βρήκα κάπου ��ίσω πίσω κι αυτό το βιβλίο.... Τι μου θύμισε πάλι...
Το είχα διαβάσει τον καιρό της μανίας με τους βρικόλακες, μετά από πρόταση του βιβλιοπώλη ότι είναι ένα πολύ καλό βιβλίο για τους λυκάνθωπους...
ΤΙ ΕΙΝΑΙ???
Αν αυτό είναι ένα καλό βιβλίο για τους λυκάνθρωπους, τότε μάλλον το είδος είναι αδικημένο, παρεξηγημένο, παραμελημένο, καταδικασμένο, καταραμένο .....
Κάπου στην Άγρια Δύση, γίνονται άγρια πράγματα, με φόντο μια αγέλη λύκων, πολλά μικρά κακά λυκάκια, ζηλόφθονες συζύγους, μια διαταραγμένη προσωπικότητα (μία από τις προσωπικότητές του ήταν λύκος, μια άλλη δεν ήταν βρικόλακας, τη γλίτωσε!), ενώ ο πισινούλης κανενός ήρωα δεν έμεινε ανέπαφος μέχρι το τέλος του βιβλίου...
ίσως τελικά το καλύτερο βιβλίο για λυκάνθρωπους είναι η Κοκκινοσκουφίτσα (το κλασικό παραμύθι εννοώ.. αλλά και η τελευταία ταινία τα σπάει -σχετικά με το παρόν βιβλίο και ο λύκος από τα 7 κατσικάκια και τα 3 γουρουνάκια τα σπάνε, για να μην πω και την αγέλη του Twilight που επικοινωνεί τηλεπαθητικά και αποτυπώνεται σε όποιο καημένο κοριτσάκι βρεθεί στο διάβα τους) -
The fact that this book is considered the "Gone With The Wind" of werewolf novels only indicates how low the bar is set for this genre. It's not that there isn't a decent story here - it's that Somtow is an atrocious writer.
The character development is so flimsy I can barely remember their names. About two-thirds of the way through the book a major character is ripped apart by werewolves and I honestly didn't feel anything because I couldn't tell him and his buddy apart. These quibbles, however, pale in comparison to the accents Somtow gives his non-native-English speaking characters. Take a look at these lines from a Russian character speaking English:
"'You have what you want,' Natasha said. 'You have killed Indians, that is greatest desire of your life, is it not?...As for boy, his death is immaterial..."
Yeah. First off, if you're writing for an American audience at any point post-1960, 1) do not name your evil Russian female character Natasha, and 2) do not give her an accent that makes me think of moose and squirrel.
Then there are these lines from a Native American character:
"Although she had learned flawless French from her husband, she had never understood English very well. But she drew herself up as tall as she could and spoke in the pidgin that was the lingua franca among traders, Indians and Chinamen: 'Me wife of Claude Grumiaux. Bring message. Heap important message!"
Holy cultural sensitivities, Batman! Even if Somtow researched this element and found it to be historically accurate, you have to be very careful how you present something like that. You have to be a very, very good writer to work something like that into your novel without making it sound like a farce. And Somtow is not that writer. It's not even relevant to the plot, so he could have (and should have) just left it out.
As for the "splatterpunk" appellation often given to this novel, I can only assume it refers to the ghastly way Somtow butchers the English language. Take a look at these passages:
"The head of an old man - she knew it was Andrew Raitt, a watchmaker - lay in the mud at the boy's feet. The morning sunlight, smoke-dappled, illumined his face; wordlessly, in time to a sourceless music, he began to move slowly in a circle, his eyes closed."
I spent five minutes trying to figure out why/how the head was dancing before I figured out Somtow was referring to the boy. And then there's this:
"A child screamed. It's mother's eyes had been shot out."
There's nothing so horrifying as bad grammar. That should be "its," Somtow. I'm paying you for your work, here. I expect you to know how to write.
For all its failures, and they are legion, the novel does have one positive attribute. Somtow has done his research on wolves, at least based upon the scientific information available at the time. There are multiple references to the peculiar stare wolves sometimes give their prey, where it appears they are asking the prey's permission to take its life.
This has been mentioned in other works published prior to this one. So a round of applause to you, Somtow, since it seems that here at least you did your homework.
As for the rest of the novel, I leave you with the closing line from this epic masterpiece of werewolf literature:
"Eat my shit! Smell my piss! I am the queen!"
I think we're done here. -
I'd heard of this described both as "the Great American werewolf novel" and also as "the GONE WITH THE WIND of lycanthropy," so as a fan of lycanthropes how could I not be intrigued?
Somtow crafts an epic tale of European immigrants coming to the dying Wild West in hope of setting up a colony where their community of werewolves can hunt and thrive without being hunted to extermination by normal humans, but what they don't take into account is that the area they've chosen might already be home to another community of shape-shifters, this time of the Injun variety. Anyone who's read a western novel or seen a western movie in the past forty years knows that situation will lead to a clash of native spiritualism and European devaluing and destruction of a "lower" culture, and that's exactly what this book is about.
This epic unfolds amid a framing device where a young writer in 1963 seeks out a mental institution in South Dakota that's home to an aged inmate with multiple personalities who committed a series of hideous psycho-sexual murders, violent atrocities that earned him infamy as "the Laramie Ripper." As the writer interviews the madman, she discovers that he, or rather one of his personalities, was prophesied by the shapeshifting Shungmanitou tribe as a messiah who would bridge the gap between man and beast and heal the world in the process, but the road to that clearly failed mission is a long, hard and cruel odyssey of genocide, unbridled racial hatred, scads of brutal western-style violence — i.e. loads of shootings, scalpings, torture and rape — Native American metaphysics and examinations of exactly what may or may not separate man from beast, all populated with a cast where every single character is earmarked for some sort of tragedy.
MOON DANCE is first and foremost a western on an operatic scale, and if not for the lycanthropy hook it would have been a straight-up downer western to rival SOLDIER BLUE (although much better written). It is utterly unflinching in its depiction of a filthy, nasty west whose spirit is being ravaged by the juggernaut of Western Expansion and the decimation of indigenous peoples (and the Chinese, in sequences that are genuinely stomach-turning), and the violence and gore will no doubt be extremely off-putting to some readers (but not me, lemme tell ya!).
The other element that might not sit well with some is the rather sensible depiction of the habits and behaviors of the werewolves, both Eurotrash and Injun, which includes such wolflike traits as relentless scent-marking (even when in human form), disturbing displays of dominance that are equivalent to rape and torture (depending on how one looks at it), and the powerful and visceral effect that certain smells have in causing sexual arousal in the werewolves and the humans caught helplessly in their thrall. The description of a redheaded female werewolf's shameless presenting of her befurred, menstrually-dripping nether parts to a cavalry officer she seeks to mark as hers is at once utterly revolting and highly erotically charged (the bit where she pretty much paints his face is so graphic that you'll damned near feel like it's happening to you), so if grotty imagery of human and inhumanly bestial shape-shifters engaging in all kinds of ultra-animalistic sexual shenanigans disturbs you, I suggest you give this one a miss.
MOON DANCE is extremely well written and is much better than many horror stories I've read, especially those featuring werewolves — my favorite archetypal monster, but they always get the shit end of the stick when it comes to fiction, although the wolves in this book probably wouldn't balk at a doody-covered stick — and its epic length is definitely worth making one's way through. My only real caveat is that it's a major downer from start to finish, and even the bright spots that really communicate the sacred and beautiful connection between the shape-shifters and the natural order of things cannot lift the tale's inevitable and depressing conclusion. We know what happened to the Indians in real life so you already know how this story ends, but the storytelling magic lies in the book's ability to compel as we journey along with the characters to a bleak oblivion.
And if there is a Hell for fictional characters, I sincerely hope that both the incredibly evil and sadistic Cordwainer Claggart and United States Cavalry Colonel Sanderson are suffering an enduring and vitriolic torment for the agonizes they wrought upon many characters in this book. Both are among the most heinous villains I've ever encountered in literature, and they will leave an indelible mark upon any who read MOON DANCE.
Lastly, what with Hollywood mining all corners for movie fodder, I strongly doubt that MOON DANCE could ever be successfully translated to the big screen with its spirit and intent intact for a number of reasons. Its scope alone would prove cost-prohibitive, and then there are the understandably touchy depictions of Native American genocide — something covered to nigh-unwatchable effect in SOLDIER BLUE — and the ultra-gory ravaging and gleeful disembowelings perpetrated by the werewolves. The assorted acts of cruelty and gender-regardless rape and torture committed by Claggart and Sanderson would push this straight into instant NC-17 territory, even if handled with restraint (how?), and don't even get me started on all the territorial pissing (even on people) and wolf/human sex... The MPAA's collective head would explode! -
This is a decidedly non-romantic historical fantasy set in the Old West. This is probably not the first story to depict European werewolves coming to America and fighting their Native American counterparts, but it's one of the better ones I've seen, and it definitely predates White Wolf's crappy World of Darkness (let alone Twilight). Warning: This is an extremely gory, graphic book. Rape, torture, genocide, and sex scenes that are often as unpleasant as the bloody murders are all found in abundance.
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Το χειρότερο για φέτος. Βάζω -5 αστέρια και λίγα είναι.
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Δεν ξέρω τι να πω.
Είμαι σίγουρη ότι είναι ένα καλό βιβλίο. Με χαρακτήρες και με περιγραφές και με πλοκή. Αλλά.
Δεν είμαι σίγουρη αν φτάνουν αυτά για να είναι καλό ένα βιβλίο. Ειδικά η αρχή, η σχέση μεταξύ Πρέστον και Κάρι και ο τρόπος που περιγράφεται το όλο σκηνικό, ο τρόπος που και ο ένας και η άλλη συμπεριφέρονται, τι να πω, είναι άνω ποταμών. Μοιάζει με κακογραμμένο φαν-φικ με λυκάνθρωπους, στα όρια του σαδιστικού άρλεκιν. Κι ενδιαμέσως έχουμε καταπληκτικές περιγραφές της σχιζοφρένειας του ΤΚ. Απλά καταπληκτικές.
Κι αυτό συνεχίζει και με την ιστορία της Σπεράντζα. Μεγάλο μέρος αυτών που λέει και κάνει δεν ταιριάζουν στο προφίλ της ως θρησκευάμενης αμαρτωλής. Οι ερωτικές της επιθυμίες μετατοπίζονται χωρίς βάση από τον έναν στον άλλο, αναλόγως του σχεδιαγράμματος της πλοκής.
Από τους υπόλοιπους, είναι δυο-τρεις σκέτες καρικατούρες (ειδικά ο Σάντερσον, ο Χάρπερ κι ο Κλοντ Γκρουμιό, για να μην αναφέ��ω το εξωτικό μπαχαρικό που λέγεται Τσαντραπούτρα), είναι ένα-δυο που έχουν μια κάποια βάση (ο Κλάγκαρτ που όμως καταντάει γελοία κακός, ο κόμης και η Ναταλία, η χήρα) και άλλοι, ειδικά οι Ινδιάνοι κι ο ΤΚ που είναι στ' αλήθεια εξαιρετικοί.
Το splatterpunk είναι πολύ καλό, αλλά 550 σελίδες μεγάλου σχήματος, με μικροσκοπικά γράμματα γεμάτες από ανάκατα κακο- και καλό-γραμμένους χαρακτήρες είναι ανυπόφορα πολλές. -
Written by S. P. Somtow, this novel follows a journalist/anthropologist who has driven to the middle of no where South Dakota to interview a man, a murderer, with multiple personality disorders.
Only, that isn’t the only thing he suffers from…
Carrie is the main character, i.e. the journalist, and I do like her. Set in the 60’s, her character is believable, but most every other character in this novel is depraved.
Her ancestor, Hope, is the second point of view, who is someone who has dark desires but denies them like any good woman did in the 1800s. J.K. is another version. And Harper, the soldier. And a few other points of view. The various points of view were interesting and I think the best way to tell this story.
As far as the story its self… ehe. Honestly, when I started I didn’t realize it was actually a werewolf book. I thought it was about a killer with multiple personality disorder who thought he was a werewolf.
I can be honest. This is definitely a horror novel written in the style of the 80’s. So, it is very explicit in language, and depraved is the correct word.
So, if you like dark werewolf novels, where they are monsters, this would be a good book. If you like a long horror, also good. -
Like the vampire novels by Somtow, this werewolf novel is complex, ultimately sad, erotic, violent and scary. Also like the vampire novels, it is deeply concerned with memory. In 1963 Carrie Dupre is researching a Depression- era mass murderer and meets a very old man who is a werewolf and has multiple personality disorder. He moved to the Dakotas with his “family” of werewolves from Europe, even as a little boy he had MPD. He lived in Bedlam until he was ten, adter witnessing his mother's murder when he was 2. His loyal governess was Carrie Dupre’s great grandmother, Speranza. What the European werewolves don’t know or care about is that there are already Native werewolves or Shungmanitu living there. I am afraid my description of the book has made it sound stupid, it is anything but.
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I'm not much on werewolf novels, but this one is cool. Set in the American Plains, it combines Indian lore, history of the American West and kick-ass horror to make what could be called an epic. My favorite S. P. Somtow novel.
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Well I finished this behemoth of a book. Some of the 564 pages were good, well written and some was horrible. The modern parts of the story were particularly bad. The dialogue between the four main characters in those chapters was weirdly stilted and unbelievable. It started so oddly I almost stopped reading after The third chapter. The old West story was better and kept my interest until about page 480. The author obviously did a LOT of research and his descriptions of the trains, Native American life and history were all very well done and interesting. Unfortunately, it was not enough to earn my full admiration for this book. It is billed as horror, but you should know this book contains a considerable amount of gore, sex, perversion and violence, death, dismemberment, child abuse and murder along with copious descriptions of gallons of bodily fluids. I'm glad I read this, I had read some good reviews...but would never recommend it as a great werewolf story, or read it again. I bought a very nice and inexpensive hardcover from Thrift Books and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a signed copy with some papers inside pertaining to the author's appearance at a bookstore where the previous owner had it signed and a newspaper article. Too bad I didn't love it.
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A book with a premise this cool has no right to be this boring.
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my review at
https://www.instagram.com/p/CnfB6GwLL... -
one of the blurbs on the back of the book describes this as "the '
gone with the wind' of werewolf novels," and perhaps that's accurate for some people...this book was a looooong slog to get through, anyway. the story revolves around a boy with multiple personality disorder, the illegitimate son of an eastern european count who is gathering all of the fellow werewolves in europe to emigrate to america, seen as some sort of chosen-one of the native werewolf population. somtow does an excellent job of making these creatures all animals - pissing on everything is the most common descriptor throughout the book - but a lame job of making you care about anyone in the story. there's a good tale in this brick, and a more aggressive editor would have done a lot to pare back the crap to bring it out. -
Let's get something straight. S.P. Somtow knows how to write. This book had tremendous potential regarding the plot, interesting characters but mediocre execution. Up until the second half it's close to amazing. It kind of goes downhill from there on. All in all, I can't say I wouldn't recommend it. To another reader, the good points might outweigh the bad. To me it's still a draw.
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Tried re-reading this since it's been a few years. Nope. Can't do it. I got 50 pages in before I realized what it was: there's no suspension of disbelief. Something about the style and the characters, maybe. Whatever it is, I put the book down and didn't finish it.
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Ancient European horror meets the Wild, Wild West.
Not very frightening, but pretty engaging. -
Here's a book that's been hibernating in my library for 30 years, I had a bookmark of a bus ticket 20 years old.
Hurrah I've finished a very satisfying, exceptionally violent novel where man, woman, child (any age)and beast aren't safe.
The tale starts in 1963 and flashes back to the late 1800s where werewolf meets westerns in a very impressive stomach turning and exciting way.
Not for the weak of stomach, the violence doesn't hold back.
Enjoyed it although I thought the tale did drag at parts. -
Ο Somtow έχει πολύ χαρακτηριστική γραφή και παρόλο που δεν είναι γρήγορη στην εξέλιξη σε ταξιδεύει σε κάθε σελίδα. Για σχετικά ρομαντικές ψυχές η ιστορία, με μερικές σκηνές αρκετά άγριες και στο σύνολό του μ'άρεσαν πολύ! Το διάβασα αποσπασματικά και με μεγάλα κενά αλλά δεν επηρέασε αρνητικά το ταξίδι. Αν έχει διαβάσει κάποιος και το "Σκοτεινοί Άγγελοι" να περιμένει κάτι αντίστοιχο κι εδώ, απλά με άλλη θεματολογία.
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There is something about Somtow’s writing that pulls at memories from your deepest self and though you may cringe away from the gore you find yourself wanting to look back and deeper into the essence of yourself.
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An absolute mess of a story and a real endurance test.
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1 star is already to much for this pile of shit!
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Werde es definitiv niemals wieder lesen.
Das Buch enthielt entschieden zu viel bildliche Beschreibung von Gewalt, und ich bin nicht besonders zart besaitet, was Bücher angeht.
Viel zu oft werden Eingeweide herausgerissen, Leute an ihnen aufgeknüpft, fast jeder Tod (von denen es übrigens auch zu viele, detailreich beschriebene, gibt) erfolgt auf dramatisch grausame Art.
Auch die menschlichen und tierischen Exkremente, die alle paar Seiten durch die Gegend geschleudert wurden, waren mir schlicht viel zu viel.
Und dabei geht es keineswegs um meine zarte Seele, die keine Gewalt oder keinen Ekel verträgt, sondern allein um die Tatsache, dass es sich ständig wiederholt, die selben Szenen ständig zu lesen, besonders so unappetitliche, ist auf Dauer einfach ermüdend.
Dieses Buch ist überhaupt nicht mein Stil, sicher keine leichte Kost (mit über 500 Seiten), aber was man ihm positiv anrechnen muss, sind die starke Authentizität, denn fast alles ist an Fakten angelehnt, und die Tatsache, dass der Autor es irgendwie geschafft hat, trotz der Tatsache, dass mir das Buch viel zu langatmig erschien, dass ich das Buch nicht weglegen konnte, ohne es zu beenden.
Es ist unmöglich aufzuhören, ohne zu wissen was aus J.K. wird, warum er wird wie er wird, ohne die Schicksale von Speranza, Teddy, Natalia, Cluggart, Sanderson und den vielen anderen schillernden Charakteren im Buch geschieht.
Im Endeffekt ist es eindeutig nicht jedermanns Sache, dennoch kann keiner behaupten, dass das Buch schlecht (geschrieben), oder oberflächlich wäre. -
One of the interesting things about this book is the author. In the beginning of the book, his portrayal of the main female really irritated me. I wanted to know if S.P. was male or female. Male. But I thought it was interesting that he is also a composer and conductor.
I'm wobbling between a 3 and a 4 star rating. S.P. made his female lead the way she is because he was making a point, not because he's a sexist ass, or at least that's how I took it eventually. And he made a lot of his characters very, "strong". That's the best word I've got for it. His bad characters, did horrible things, his good characters were good.
There were descriptions and events that bordered on offensive and over-the-top, but they all fit in with the story, so they belonged in it.
The idea of European werewolf meets Indian shape-shifter was genius. Loved it, but felt the end was a bit of a stretch with the JK thing. -
Oh, splatterpunk and bewilder me insane...
Funny story, I read this book because one of my dearest friends is someone who references the book fairly often, and inserts little quotes here and there in our conversations.
It started out pretty well - from a linguistic perspective, I enjoyed the names of the cities, the names of the characters and how easily musicians and great artist were involved. It is curious to note what a subtle presence music has in the novel, subtle but quite important. Somtow's style was engaging and interesting at first, but at one point it just got too much for me. And, no, not the violence, the gore, none of that, it was just too repetitive. For its volume, Moondance could have elaborated and developed characters better. Still, especially if you're a fan of the genre, book is nice. -
A sprawling werewolf epic that, though bloated and stuffed to the gills with characters, plot lines, shifting time periods, etc. still finds a kind of savage poetry in the mingling of beast and man, of the beauty and inevitability of death. It's not perfect, by any means, but I kept coming back to it over the many months it took me to finish, lured in by its historical detail, its ballsy yet not at all tasteless graphic sex and violence, and the poetry of its hopeful reconciliation of races, white, red, black, yellow, and even beast. Somtow writes with grace and intelligence. A big, complicated read, but a rewarding one.
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A historically-based novel about the building of the railroads and the development of the West in the 1800s... cowboys, Indians, gold mines, etc... however, there just happen to be werewolves coming from Europe to find "new territory" for themselves only to discover that the Lakota Sioux already have werewolves... and so the battle begins.
There is some sex and violence and it is actually rather crude. If you're looking for a typical werewolf romance, or even a werewolf slasher novel, you won't find either of them here. -
This is a fairly massive book clocking in at around 550 pages. It is crammed full of beauty, mystery, and terror. It's amazing to me that an author born in Thailand and raised in the UK can write so detailed about the Old West America. He obviously did the research.
The tale effortlessly moves between the emerging young West of the mid 1800's and the 1960's while slowly making the connection between characters from both eras with savage and seductive writing.
A gripping tale about two sets of werewolf clans colliding.
For more reviews go to my blog
http://fringesofhorror.blogspot.com/ -
Once I read that the author of this book is part of a genre called, unfortunately, "splatter-punk", it was all over with. That's an appellation I find juvenile, trite, and annoying all at the same time. Actually, this werewolf saga isn't really that bad. I may actually pick it up again some day. But right now it's in a box in the utility closet under the stairs. The box is kind of pushed way back and hard to reach easily. And other books are neatly stacked on top of it.
